the sum, greater than the parts
by findingthewayhome
Summary: sometimes, no matter how hard you try, there isn't a way to pick out parts of love.


There is really no point to this other than that I have had this lingering around my docs. Make of it what you will. I promise, I will return to _These are the Days _soon. Work has been busy, which is to say my life is just pretty much like anyone else's :)

The Parts

"This is it, isn't it?"

Staring at her, he knew he hadn't needed to ask the question. But he had a feeling that if he didn't ask it, she would never actually say what they both needed to hear.

"I don't want it to be."

Feeling the corners tighten of his eyes tighten, he nodded.

"Okay. It's okay. I—I— "

She looked up at him, eyes dark, waiting, but he just shook his head.

"What?" she asked, leaning forward, hands buried in coat pockets, tilting her head up to try and meet his eyes. The thought scraped painfully at his head that it was first time she had really looked at him in a month.

Raising his head, he stared back at her

"Can I just ask why?"

She closed her eyes, and he felt sick at the thought that he didn't know when he'd see them again, all the blue of the world he wanted to live in.

"I know you don't feel the need for—this," she gestured between them, "distance."

There was a catch in her voice, but she steadied herself, and shook her head.

"You're so sure, so certain, so able to see this, us, is worth it." From anyone else, there would have been the blush of pride coloring the words, but from her they just felt honest. "You know what you want and how you can handle it."

He could feel his face flushing. Somehow love became an embarrassment when it went out alone. He knew that, but he swallowed, nodding, trying to keep from shouting that yes, yes, they had been through this, he'd thought through this, he didn't see how this wasn't best, and how could it be possible to be right so often and wrong about this?

"But for me…It's different." She swallowed hard. "I don't want to—_I don't want to—_. There's so much I love about us. But that's the problem, I—" she cleared her throat, and it hurt that this was the bravest he had seen her be in a long while. "For so long I haven't been sure what to do with this, with all our history. And I've been trying to let go for months now, and I can't seem to." She seemed to have to swallow, gulp a little to get the words whispered out. "I can't seem to want to. Maybe. I don't know," She paused and for a moment the old hesitations crowded around her eyes, in her hands, as she raised them half out of her pockets helplessly. "Maybe distance won't help but I think I've got to try it."

There was a time when he'd thought her place in his life was unshakable. Only five months ago she raced into his room with a roll of paper towels and hands clasped at her chest, wordlessly darted to his bedside table and deposited a flopping goldfish into his glass of water. He had stared at her as she breathed a sigh of relief, watching the fish swim resignedly around its small domain. It wasn't until she had carefully lifted up the glass and started for the door that he called her name, and she looked at him, blinking in some surprise. "Nancy, how did you—why did you—what— ". She looked sheepishly at the glass, "I'm sorry, I just…. I know you always keep a glass of water by your bedside. And I thought you wouldn't mind as much as your brother would." She'd left and he'd just shook his head and eyed the fish.

He knew she wore socks to bed until 2:00 in the morning because she always had bad dreams if she kept them on past 3:00. He knew she couldn't stand ice in her milk and icing on her cake. He knew she never felt more alive than when she held all the pieces of the puzzle in her hands and that she would never go a Christmas without being with her father.

"I wish it was different…I wish…"

This time he smiled a little.

"I know you do. Or I think maybe I will know it. It just sometimes takes me a while, with you."

Her breath came out in a half laugh, half cough, like she was strangling a sob and he knew she was feeling the weight of their world slip a little off her shoulders, and a little back on them all at the same time.

"Thank you for telling me."

She closed her eyes for a second but met his eyes again and he wondered again how he stopped noticing how little she had done that since January. "You've been the best friend I've ever had." And that was the problem, wasn't it? They were friends. Friends, when she wanted more, and when he didn't have anything else to give her.

"I'll miss you. When you're ready…" He shook his head. The last thing she needed was a reminder that he wanted her back when she was trying so hard to make herself leave. "Just, take care of yourself, okay?"

"You too."

As he walked back to his car, the wind whistled an empty tune through his fingers until he clenched them into fists.

Sum

"_Between any two beings there is a unique, uncrossable distance, an unenterable sanctuary. Sometimes it takes the shape of aloneness. Sometimes it takes the shape of love." _

_Jonathan Safran Foer_


End file.
